


Wherever We Go

by AlexTWDgf01



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: AU where Ford leaves with Stan when he's kicked out, Brotherly Love ❤️, Cuddles, Ford's a good bro, Homelessness, Hurt/Comfort, Not stancest - Freeform, Stangst, injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 09:36:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16890081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexTWDgf01/pseuds/AlexTWDgf01
Summary: Stanley tried twisting the gun back at the stranger, but wasn't able to succeed when a fist was plowed into his cheek. He was so taken by surprise, that he lost control of the gun as it was pointed in his face.BANG!"STANLEY!"





	Wherever We Go

The Stan twins had been down in Virginia, in a small city, Stanford washing their clothes at the laundry mat and Stanley buying (stealing) things they needed from the store. Things had been ruff for them the past two months after their retched father threw them out on the streets. The barely managed to get by, only having a few hundred dollars their mother had managed to slip in their bags. Now, they only had $79 bucks left. 

With a sigh, Ford loaded their, now dry, clothes into a basket and began walking to the Stanley Mobile. It was a few blocks away, so he had to pass by a few alleys on his way. Though, when he walked past the second one, a pair of hands grabbed him by the shoulder and mouth, throwing him deep into its shadowy depths.

He hit the ground with a surprised grunt, clothes tumbling from his hands. Ford scrambled to his feet, spinning to meet the offender only for a gun to be pointed his way. The eighteen year old tensed, raising his hands.

"Give me your money." the hooded stranger demanded.

"I don't have any on me." Ford answered honestly.

"I ain't playing games, kid. You better give me the dough before I pop you." he threatened.

"I'm not lying! All I have are clothes." Stanford said, becoming increasingly nervous.

"I don't believe you." the stranger said, cocking his gun back. "You have till the count of three before I blow your brain over this alley."

Ford began trembling, adrenaline and fear pumping through him. "You can check my pockets! I-I don't have any money on me!"

"One..."

"I'm homeless! Broke! Don't you get it?!"

"Two..."

"P-please don't kill me!" Tears now streamed down Ford's face as he pleaded for his life.

"Thr-"

The stranger was cut off right before the the gun fired. Stanford jumped, clenching his eyes tightly as he inevitably wait for the piercing of a bullet going through his body. But nothing came. Instead, he heard a scuffle going on, grunts and growls filling his ears.

Looking up, he saw Stan fighting the guy, trying to gain the upper hand and take his gun. The stranger drew back his free hand and punched Ford's twin in the cheek, causing his grip to falter. It was enough for the gun to be aimed at his face. Then, another shot rang out and Stanford's heart stopped. 

"STANLEY!"

 

 

//Moments earlier//

 

 

Stanley bobbed in through the small convenience store, grabbing food and supplies to stuff inside his inconspicuously thick, winter coat he wore this hot, summer day. He was able to snag two bottles of water, a Pitt Cola, bread rolls, a jar of peanut butter, and a bag of chips.

He already knew before he started for the exit tat someone would catch him, so he took of running. A woman at the cash register yelled at him, but Stan ignored her and kept running. He was smart enough to park the Stanley Mobile several blocks down, around a corner.

Stan chuckled to himself at how easy it was to steal that stuff, glancing inside the laundry mat. Not seeing Stanford, he assumed his brother was already in the car. He made his way over, only to stop by an alleyway.

He'd heard an argument between two people going on down there. Stan would have kept walking, wanting to avoid possibly getting killed, if he hadn't heard an all too familiar voice.

Stanford's.

Heart jumping in his throat, Stan rounded the alley. And the sight was horrifying. A man with a gun pointed at his brother's head, counting. With a growl, he launched himself forward, moving the gun before it fired on his brother.

The stray shot fired into the sky, the stranger flabbergasted at the unexpected attack from behind. The man grappled with Stan, pushing and shoving and scratching at his arm to gain control of his gun again. 

Stanley tried twisting the gun back at the stranger, but wasn't able to succeed when a fist was plowed into his cheek. He was so taken by surprise, that he lost control of the gun as it was pointed in his face.

BANG!

"STANLEY!"

 

 

//Now//

 

 

Stan cried out as a burning pain engulfed his right cheek and his ears rang. Everything seemed to slow down as he became deaf to his surroundings. He placed a hand against the side of his face, coming back coated in blood.

The younger twin looked up at the offending man, who wore a shocked look upon his face. Using the distraction to his advantage, Stanley grabbed the stranger by the hoodie and head butted him.

"GAH!" the man yelled as he stumbled back with a broken nose, dropping the gun.

Stan jumped forward, slamming his fist into the side of the man's head, sending him head first into a wall, rendering him unconscious. For extra precaution, he kicked the stranger's side piece down the alley.

Ears still ringing and adrenaline draining, Stan bent over, resting his hands on his knees. Blood dripped off his chin as he panted, straining to hear. Suddenly, two six fingered hands clasped onto his shoulders, shaking him slightly.

Knowing it was just his twin, he stood up straight and looked into his eyes. Ford looked worriedly at him, eyes scraping over his body to investigate his injuries.

"Stanford..." Stan said, barely being able to hear himself.

"...an...ey! Are...kay?" Ford said, Stan's hearing slowly coming back. "Y...leeding!"

"I'm fine, Sixer. Don't worry. How about you?"

"I-I'm ...ne." 

Stanford leaned forward, wrapping his arms around his brother's shoulders, hugging him tightly. Stanley followed suit, returning the hug just as fierce.

 

 

//Later//

 

 

"Ow."

"Sorry."

After the two were assure that the other was alright, Stan had taken $300 dollars from the stranger's wallet before leaving, putting several miles between them and the town. They'd later pulled off on a backroad to sleep for the night and clean up.

Stanford was helping his brother to patch up his injuries, more so with stitching his cheek. Stan hissed as he did so, rubbing ointment and bandaging it after along with the scratch on his arm.

"Thanks." Stan mumbled, popping open and taking a sip from the Pitt Cola, holding it out for the other.

"No problem. Is your hearing any better?" Ford asked, taking the offered can, gulping down a few sips.

"Yeah. My ears ain't ringin' off the hook like they were, at least."

The two looped into momentary silence, sharing sips from the soft beverage before it was empty. Stan then proceeded to chunk the can out the window and turn off the car. On cue, both brothers stripped their clothes and put on their night attire, which would have been clean if not for being dumped in the alley.

Ford grabbed toothbrushes and toothpaste from one of their bags, handing his brother his before squeezing out some of the tube's contents and brushing his teeth. Once the job was done, Stan pulled out the backseat into a bed and the two clambered in the back, locking the doors.

Ford laid down behind his brother, wrapping an arm loosely around his waist after pulling the covers up over their bare legs. Stan smiled, interlacing his fingers through his twin's, squeezing them lightly.

"Night, Poindexter." Stan whispered.

"Goodnight, Stanley." Ford sighed, snuggling closer into Stan's back.

It didn't take long for Ford to drift off into the sea of unconsciousness, breath leveling out. Though, Stan couldn't. He tried for what seemed like hours, but his mind was too busy reeling. 

He kept thinking about what happened today, Ford being nearly killed by some jerk. How he'd almost died himself. Stan couldn't help, but feel guilty for it all. 

Ford wouldn't have been close to death if they weren't homeless.

Ford wouldn't be homeless if he hadn't felt the need to defend Stan.

Ford wouldn't have felt the need to defend Stan if he hadn't destroyed his project.

It was all Stan's fault and he knew it.

Tears brimmed at the corners of Stan's eyes, breath becoming ragged as all the voices of people who saw him as a failure, even himself, yelled in his head.

"And he's just a dumber, sweatier version of you."

"You have two sons: one of them is incredibly gifted, the other one is standing outside of this room and his name's Stanley."

"You are nothing more than a mistake."

"That idiot? He'll be luck to graduate high school."

"All you ever do is lie and cheat and ride on your brother's coattails!"

By now, Stan was sobbing and shaking, trying desperately to stay quiet so as not to wake his sleeping twin, but he was doing an awful job, just like he did with everything else. He removed his hand from Ford's hand, clamping both over his mouth in a last ditch effort.

Ford shifted, resting his hand over Stan's belly as he sighed. When he noticed his brother shaking, he rose to attention.

"Stan?" he questioned groggily. "Stan, what's wrong?"

Stan didn't reply, only curling in on himself slightly as he sobbed. Ford didn't know what was wrong. He tried to turn his brother over, but he wouldn't budge. The only thing he could do was hug him close.

The younger continued his crying and sobbing for a few minutes, his lips trembling too much to allow a single word to slip out. When he was finally able to compose himself, he spoke.

"I'm s-so sorry. All of t-this is my fa-ault." Stan stuttered out in a wavering voice. "You should have j-ust stayed."

Ford frowned, unsure as to what his brother was babbling on about at first. 

"You could have went to-o another college, just as go-ood as tha-that stuffy one woulda b-been. Made it big in the world..." Stan cut off into another string of sobs before suddenly stopping. "Wait...you could s-still go back."

"What?" Ford asked, breathless.

"You could still go back. Live your life." Stan said, unmoving.

"I'm not leaving you." Ford said, shooting the whole awful idea down.

"Listen to me, Sixer. You can take on the world. Go to college, become a nerdy scientist-"

"None of that will matter to me if my brother's not with me."

"But Ford, you would have a better life without me holding you back. I mean, you wouldn't be homeless like we are right now, barely scraping by. You'd have a job and a great life...You just have to let me go."

Stanford was so dumbstruck by his brother's words, he didn't know how to respond. There was so much his brain was trying to take in, so much he wanted to say. He wanted to tell Stan he was wrong, that he wasn't holding him back. That he chose to be with his brother rather than let him be left alone.

His throat was to tight for him to push those words out though. Ford took a moment, hating the silence as he tried to regain his voice. Finally, he gained control of his words and spoke with his heart.

"That's not true. I'm not homeless. Wherever you are, I'm home. You're my home, Lee." Ford said, bumping his forehead against the back of Stan's head. "And wherever we go, we go together."

Stan bristled slightly when his brother's hand found his, interlacing their fingers together again, Ford's six encasing his five. A perfect fit.

"Always."

Ford heard a new line of light sobs as he rested his forehead against the other's neck, nuzzling him comfortingly. Stan shook anew, overtaken by his brother's words as they slowly drove out most of the voices in his head, except one.

"Y-you don't think I'm a...m-m-mistake?" Stan asked, uncertainty in his voice.

Ford tensed, hand squeezing his brother's tightly before letting go. He moved said hand to Stan's shoulder, resting there.

"Stanley, look at me." 

Stan didn't move at first, heart racing as his own mind yelled at him that Ford was going to tell him just how much of a mistake he was.

"Please..."

Though, with those pleading words, he relented, turning to his other side slowly. Now able to see his face clearly, Ford saw his puffy, red eyes, dry and wet tear tracks over his abused and battered cheeks. Stan just looked so vulnerable at that moment and it broke his heart.

"You are not a mistake." Stanford stated, resting his hand delicately on Stan's bruised cheek. "I don't care about anyone's opinion from that dumbass town. They were jerks and they were wrong. You are very bright, you are kind, you are different...and that's good...because that's what makes you the brother I know and love."

With a kind smile, Ford propped himself up on his elbow and placed a gentle, loving kiss on Stan's bruised cheek.

"I love you, brother. Don't ever doubt that."

Stan's bottom lip trembled as more tears pooled from his eyes, launching forward to wrap his arms around his twin. Ford returned the hug immediately, feeling his brother's tears fall against his neck.

"I love you...I love you...I love you." Ford mummers over and over again into his brother's ear until the lull of sleep took them both under.


End file.
